


Sympathy From The Devil

by phoenixjustice



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:58:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixjustice/pseuds/phoenixjustice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-TDK.</p><p>Left devastated by the loss of Alfred, Bruce, with the help of the Joker, goes in search of the man's killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Warnings: mentions of character death, slash, etc

Summary: Sharp things know, what a grievous blow. Charged to discover, left with red and grey. The muse falls to the sea, leaving questions. How can one find such a question?

Prompt: "bad day."

: :: :

The world was bleak and grey; only fitting for this worst of worst days. Alfred Pennyworth, most beloved of father figures to him, was dead. He had been in great shape and health for a man of his advancing age, still spry and quick witted as ever. It had not been a sudden heart attack or stroke, or something similar that had done him in; it had been a criminal, a _villain_.

A new villain to the city of Gotham who had wanted to make his presence known. One called the Riddler, wearing a ridiculous suit and bowler hat covered with question marks and a cane with a question mark on top.A few pictures of him had surfaced through various cameras in the city. He had seemingly happened upon Alfred by chance when the butler had been walking through the shipyard to get to Bruce's hideout and had been killed.

The man was also unlike the regular criminals in the city (he deliberately kept himself from thinking about who else fit that description), in that, other than the manner in which he committed crimes and the like, he also left calling cards.

In the forms of Riddles.

The one he left on Alfred's body had been picked up by the police before he could get there as Batman, but he had gotten a look at it on Gotham PD's rooftop by Commissioner Gordon; talking and doing things as Batman was the only thing that had kept him from breaking down then.

The riddle, a small nondescript piece of paper, had said: Sharp things know, what a grievous blow. Charged to discover, left with red and grey. The muse falls to the sea, leaving questions. How can one find such a question?

It was obviously a riddle to test the wit of the person reading it, whether or not it was for him, the Batman, or whoever specifically.

He could hear the muffled, or not so muffled in some cases, crying of people surrounding the wooden casket. His eyes were dry. He felt this great need to cry and let it out, but couldn't. Not because he was _Bruce Wayne_ or a man, or anything like that...it just wouldn't come. Perhaps when he got home to the empty mansion he would be getting to, then perhaps then he could cry.

The sky was overcast and it starts to rain as soon as the Minister speaks. People huddled closer together, black clothes and eyes filled with tears, underneath their umbrellas. He could distantly hear someone, perhaps it was Jim Gordon, ask him for something, to open up an umbrella for himself, but the words just went in one ear and out the other. His skin felt cold and numb long before the rain ever touches it.

The next words of the minister get drowned out by a sudden burst of thunder, startling some people. He wasn't startled by the noise, but by a sudden hand holding onto his. He turns and his breath catches in his throat. The clothes may have been different, the hair a different color, the scars hidden and no color touching the man's face, but he would recognize that face anywhere; _no one_ had eyes like the Joker.

"Jack?" He says hoarsely, rain dripping down in little lines down his head, but which he didn't really notice or feel.

"I'm sorry, Brucey," whispered the Joker, squeezing his hand.

They both turn back to the service as the minister finishes up.

"Ashes to ashes..."

"Brucey..."

"Dust to dust..."

Women weeped, men shook with tears, some openly crying, and he stood their, stoic and dry eyed. He turns to look at the clown prince.

"I know you've figured out his riddle." Said the Joker. And he had. "And I know who hired him."

All he could do was stand there, cold and shaking in the rain while he listened to the man.

"I had to torture a few guys, ha ha," said the Joker quietly, looking away. "But...what do you know...they decided to talk! How nice of them. Ha..."

"... send this man back into your loving embrace, oh Lord..."

The Joker turns his head to look Bruce directly in the eyes, piercing him.

"I love you."

Bruce weeps.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Take the mask off; I want to see what's really underneath."

A/N: To answer some questions: Bruce and the Joker already have an established 'relationship' that began many months before. Their relationship is pretty much the same before they ever had sex, except there have been a couple rare instances; one of which the Joker has shown Jack Napier to Bruce. And also that Bruce, when he is Bruce and the Joker is Jack, shows bit of softer emotion, and the same for the Joker. Just thought I'd clarify. xD

 

~*~

Part Two

~*~

He gets pushed against the wall, the Joker straining in the midst of their kissing to push the door shut. The clown prince had driven with him to the newly rebuilt Wayne Manor, both of them silent the entire way. Talking may have helped him from thinking about Alfred lying in a cold box six feet underground, but he didn't know what to say, or if he'd be able to.

The Joker seemed to understand this and remained silent, but he couldn't keep himself from moving all around in his seat, his little ticks becoming a bit more pronounced in the small space and Bruce thanked his lucky stars that he was the one driving; while he may have been blanketed in a film of grief and not necessarily thinking straight emotionally, the Joker driving would probably lead to nothing but a crash or worse.

He moans into the man's mouth, dueling tongues with the clown prince's eager one, mouths clashing in a style that was far from the perfect romantic-y view that made up the things of romance novels. Their lips would mash together, teeth clashing and wet tongues would dart in and out of each other's mouths, against their mouths, against their skin. It was so very far from perfect.

He loved it.

He cries out when one of the Joker's hands grabs onto the front of his crotch and rubs hard, making his half-hard erection go hard almost immediately.

" _Fuck_ , Jack," he moans.

He could feel the Joker's grin against his mouth and the man pulls back, licking away a bit of saliva off of the corner of his mouth. Good goddamn, the man wasn't pulling any stops was he? But he...

He frowns. "Take the mask off; I want to see what's really underneath."

The Joker's grin softens. "I was _wonnnderring_ when, and if, you would ever say anything...I didn't know which part you liked best, Brucey. I want to help you move pass all your grief and shit so we can find the fucking Riddler. I mean, it's all well and good for Batman to fuck the Joker in an alleyway, but for _Bruce Wayne_ \--"

He yanks the Joker to him and kisses him brutally hard, making the man moan and writhe against him.

"Make me forget," he whispers.

~*~

They had no set arrangement on who topped whom, or any of those stupid terms and labels that might want to get thrown out there. Bruce tended to top, more often than not, mostly because he still had control issues and the Joker was a bit more willing to be taken than the one who takes.

Bruce was hesitant about letting his guard down; he didn't expect the Joker to just up and attack him (at least when he was just Bruce and not Batman), but his faith had long been strained by all he had seen and done in his life, making it difficult to let down his guard. That was one of the hardest things. It had taken him a long time to make some kind of forgiveness to the man for his part in Rachel's death and the total mental, and physical, breakdown of Harvey Dent, causing him to become, what had Jim Gordon called him...? Two-Face? He was sitting in a cell in Arkham, though that was a secret that very few people knew.

He watches as the man removes a knife from one of his many pockets and starts to peel away at the latex covering his face, letting him see the glimpses of the scars he knew by sight and touch so well now.

' _I love you_. _'_

That made him pause. Neither one of them had said anything of the sort to the other, though god knew that the Joker had made so many, many innuendos to Batman, called him from anything to honey, darling or sweetcheeks. The Joker was such an enigma to him, partly from his own desire for him combined with the fact that they fought constantly, always waging war in Gotham with no clear victor, the Joker standing for chaos whereas he stood for Justice. Opposite sides of the same coin, the Joker had told him once.

Bruce had once fought everything the man had said, still frowned upon and stopped things that the Joker did at night, but he didn't fight his feelings any longer; he knew he was right. And here, in the daytime, he didn't have to worry about the Joker or his plans. The day belonged to Jack and Bruce. The night was the Batman and the Joker's playground, ready, always ready, to go to war against the other.

His eyes watch as the mask falls away, revealing the Joker underneath, eyes roaming as the man starts to undress so he could match the nakedness of Bruce's body awaiting him on the large bed. The Joker finally finishes undressing, leaving his hungry eyes to move over the man's body. His body was lined here and there with scars, one particularly long one that went down most of his left side, but all things considering, most especially because of who the man was and what he did, he had fewer scars that Bruce had first imagined him to have.

He had a lanky build, not as obviously muscled as Bruce was, but he was deceptively strong; Bruce knew that first hand. His hair was a mess of dark blonde waves and his teeth were slightly yellowed from lack of care, but he was still one of the most gorgeous things he had ever laid his eyes on (and which he would never have admitted, even under pain of death, months ago) and the mere sight of him filled him with want.

Bruce grabs onto his arms in a brutal grip and yanks the man down to him, causing the man to let out a little yelp of surprise before laughing.

"See something you like, Brucey?" The Joker purrs, rubbing himself against Bruce, causing him to let out an involuntary moan.

"I like _everything_ I see," Bruce says huskily. "But then again, I love you, so I might be a little biased..."

The Joker stills against him and Bruce's eyes widen at the realization of what he just said. That had surprised even _him_ , but he knew he meant it. What a fucked up situation he allowed himself to be in...

But he couldn't be happier; this happiness helping to wash away the anguish and sorrow he felt over Alfred's death.

A moment passes.

"Jack?" He asks quietly.

The Joker looks up into his eyes, piercing green into blue.

"Hmm...I think I promised you a good time," the Joker grins. "I best get to it...can't let my repu-ta-tion get sullied...I have an image to maintain y'know."

Bruce grins, pulling him close. "Is that right? Better get to it then, Joker. Wouldn't want your legions of fans to be disappointed."

They kiss.

~*~

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

\--PhoenixJustice

 


	3. Chapter 3

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Part Three

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" _I like_ _**everything**_ _I see," Bruce says huskily. "But then again, I love you, so I might be a little_ _biased..."_

He had stilled then, stunned into silence by the words which his ears had longed to hear from Bruce the moment he had met him, as Batman. He had once been afraid of seeing what was behind the mask, afraid that somehow his fun with Batman would be sullied by the mask that lay underneath the mask, but he had been _pleasantly_ surprised to find that it didn't sully it at all, instead leading it in a different direction.

Revealing Jack Napier to Batman, to Bruce had been one of the hardest things he had ever done, but he had thought it only fair; if his Batsy would show his other self, then the Joker would do the same.

Without the makeup, he had felt naked, strange without what he considered his true face, uncertain with what Bruce's reaction would be; it was one thing when he was himself, the Joker, and not Jack and Bruce was Batman and they could just fight out their problems, or fight them out until they fucked, whichever. But Jack and Bruce were new to each other; he had been truly vulnerable for the first time in years and it had unnerved him. How would Bruce accept him?

Bruce had taken in his stark appearance with aplomb, betraying none of his emotions at first. Then he had walked forward and kissed him, relief flowing through his body at the touch. He made sure then, at that moment, to reward Bruce later on and not make Batman have to choose later on who to save; a bus full of passengers or a plane full of passengers...the Joker would just choose which one to mess around with, instead.

He had been sad that Bruce was so distraught over losing his butler, and pissed off that a new person came to _his_ town, hurt _his_ Brucey and thought that they, _he_ , could get away with it. He had made sure, as soon as he learned what had happened, to travel down the Narrows and dig up whatever dirt on this new person, the Riddler (Make a name for yourself and people have to go and think that they need one too...) that he could.

It hadn't been that hard to find information; break a few bones, threaten people with knives or worse, or actually _do_ worse and people were more inclined to talk to you. One man in particular, after he stopped crying like a baby, knew quite a bit about the man; he had apparently been one of the Riddler's hired goons before Alfred's death and had let him go soon after (which caused another bout of crying and for the Joker to punch the man and tell him to 'Quit whining like a little bitch. No _wooonder_ the Riddler let you go; you'd give away wherever he was by crying at the drop of a hat!')

After leaving the man lying in an alleyway (all that crying had gotten old fast), he went back to one of his many hideouts in the city (he'd have to be a _fool_ to only have one) and set about cleaning himself up, wiping all the blood and makeup off of him as well as the dye and changed his clothes, before heading to Gotham Cemetary and finding Bruce there.

Seeing the look of utter despair in his Brucey's eyes, he set out to cheer him up, make him smile!

Then he could go, find the Riddler, and rip him apart limb for limb...or whatever took his fancy; he wasn't picky.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

_Do you even know how much those three li--ttle words meant to me, Brucey? I've waited **so** long to hear those words; I had rather hoped you'd say them in that interrogation back then, but instead you just used your fists! Ha ha, oh I like a man who can talk as well with his hands as his mouth..._

The cries from Bruce as he wraps his mouth around the man's cock was like a symphony to his ears. Very few things could compare to those sounds, and _nothing_ could compare to the man they came from.

He slides his mouth up and down, closing his eyes so he could truly savor the taste of the man, revel in the sounds that escaped from the billionaire's mouth that he couldn't stop. He absolutely _loved_ that he could make the man lose his control, at least in this area of their 'relationship'; as Batman, his Brucey was something else entirely and it made him shiver just thinking about it.

He opens his eyes so he could watch Bruce come undone beneath him, eyes watching the sight of Bruce's face as he comes with a shout, his seed shooting into the Joker's awaiting mouth, swallowing it down with pleasure. He pulls up and looks at Bruce who was shivering from the aftershocks, making him smile.

He now had a way to break down his Batsy and in a way that wouldn't break him completely. Because let's face it, it wouldn't be _any_ fun if Bruce broke completely, because he would too; he couldn't exist without his other half, the yin to his yang and all that other corny phrases you could use (and he didn't mind using them! Ha ha.)

"Jack--" Bruce said hoarsely. The look in Bruce's eyes made him lose it and he climbs up Bruce's body and kisses him hungrily, letting the man taste himself on the clown prince's mouth. He rocks his body up and down, his cock hard and waiting, rubbing itself against Bruce's body. He cries out in pleasure as, in the middle of their feverish kissing, Bruce wraps his hand around the Joker's cock and strokes it hard and fast.

"Brruuucey..." he groans, eyes closing, hips jerking in the billionaire's grip as he shamelessly moves into that grip. He had no need for shame; it just seemed rather useless at most times, so why feel it?

"You like that, don't you?" whispered Bruce huskily, grip tightening on the Joker's leaking cock, pre-come dripping down their bodies.

"Yessss. _Fuck_ , Brucey," he groans as he felt himself getting closer to climax.

Then Bruce of _course_ had to say--

"I love you."

And just like that, he lets out a shout and comes in a violent shudder, his seed splattering against both of them. He stays wrapped in Bruce's embrace as the aftershocks overtake him, but soon enough he lets out a breath and looks at Bruce with sated eyes.

"I love you too, Brucey." He grins. "Now that we got that out of our systems...for now, at least...let me go and tell you what I've learned about the Riddler so far--"

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Tbc...

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

\--PhoenixJustice

 


	4. Chapter 4

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Part Four

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"His name is Edward Nygma." started the Joker, sitting against Bruce's bed with one leg pulled up. "No known criminal record, no known aliases other than 'The Riddler' and one stay in Ark--ham. And he's been sought after by some Mafia person for...something." He rolls his head around a bit. "I don't know who hired him or anything...the damn guy I beat up didn't seem to know!" He rolls his eyes, smacking his lips. "But it doesn't look like Jeeves was the target either."

He glances at Bruce who looks at him rather incredulously. "What? Cat got your tongue, Batsy?"

"I didn't expect you to be so...thorough, I suppose." Bruce murmured. The Joker starts to respond, but a beeping from Bruce's cellphone makes him pause. Bruce pushes the blankets aside and gets out of bed, giving the clown prince a nice glimpse of his ass before sliding on a robe (though the Joker had no idea why he'd even bother putting one on. Shame was overrated.)

Bruce opens up his cellphone, the private one that couldn't be traced, and which he had given the number to only one person, and looks down to see a message:

**We've looked over Wayne's butler. Died from blunt force trauma to the head. No fingerprints or DNA to be found, however. Also, from what it looks like, the Riddler ran into him purely by accident, as there were no signs of a struggle. Though what he or the butler were doing down at the docks so late at night is something we still don't know.**

It made him wince internally to hear everything about Alfred, but that was his burden to bear, as the Commissioner didn't know that he, Bruce Wayne, was really the Batman. Bruce, at least, knew why Alfred was down at the docks: he was there for him. It made him feel even more guilty than he already did; Alfred had just went down there to fix up a few things for him, and look at what happened.

He shakes the thoughts out of his head as well as he is able and sends Jim Gordon a message back:

**Have your men check all the security cameras in the dock area and just beyond. In the very least, you might get a clearer picture of who you are searching for. Look into the name 'Edward Nygma.'**

He shuts the cellphone and walks back over to the Joker, who was looking at him with more patience than expected. "Well, I've got a few meetings I can't miss, so--" He lets out a sound deep in his throat as the clown prince grabs him and pulls him down for a brutal kiss. Teeth clashed, tongues waged a battle in Bruce and Joker's neverending war. Finally, they both pull back, Joker letting out a breathless little moan as they do so.

"I'll see you later," Bruce said, voice sliding down to its Batman level. The Joker twitches slightly as he does so. "So... _try_ not to blow up _too_ many people while I'm busy. At least give me a heads up if you have big plans going on."

The Joker shivers, eyes closing in pleasure as he lets that voice envelop his senses. After a moment, he opens his eyes back up and grins at Bruce. "Don't I always? And anyway...no fun for me, until tonight at least; I've got to find some more lackeys to beat up for information first."

Bruce just shakes his head.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

He didn't know what shocked them more; the fact that the Joker was in full gear in daylight (as lately he had been sticking with purely nighttime plans and the like) or the fact that he was beating them up for information about Bruce Wayne's old butler. He rather liked that he continued to perplex people and got a lot of pleasure out of it. As he said many a time, it wasn't about money; it was about _sending a message_. And messages didn't _always_ include blowing up buildings and the like...it was just usually the most fun.

"Now..." He drawls out slowly, reveling in the fear of the two men who were sitting on their asses in the alleyway, looking at him in fear. Stupid lackeys...well, technically they were supposed to be 'big guns' and valuable in the all but broken down mafia (he had seen to that; the mafia worried too much about money and things that were inconsequencial. _None_ of the fools even _thought_ about anything other than lining their own pockets) but to him they were nothing more than insignificant worms...as were most people in the world; very few people were actually worth any notice.

"If one of you would be so _kind_ to tell me who hired The Riddler...I'd _really_ like to know," he said, twirling one of his less favorite knives in his hands, as he wouldn't waste one of his favorites on such scum, and watches them recoil in fear.

"L--Like I said! I don't know!" Said the beefiest of the two, all but sweating buckets, his eyes trained on the twirling knife.

The Joker frowns; he hated it when things didn't go his way. He takes a step forward. The other guy, skinny to the other's guy bulk, gulps before speaking. "We _really_ don't, Joker! It's not a question of loyalty; we don't know." Seeing that the Joker seems to be contemplative and not murderous at the moment, he continues in a rush. "The only people who'd know something like that would be the suits; you know, the top guys. Information of that level isn't given to us."

The beefy guy nods fervently, wiping sweat from his forehead, and the Joker looks at the pair in disgust. No style, none. Dirty, smelly and good for nothing.

"And that's _all_?" He asks dangerously.

Both men nod again and he rolls his shoulders as he grabs onto one of them at a time and hefts them up. He pats their shoulders.

"Good. Both of you did good, then."

They both nod, relieved.

"Now...before you go, I need you to relay a message to your head honchos--"

Screams.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

He shakes the blood off of his gloves as much as he is able to and looks down at the ground, brows furrowed.

"Hmmmm....I guess I should have let at least _one_ of you live if I wanted you to send a message..."

He shrugs, rolling his head around two or three times before starting to walk out of the alleyway. Behind him, streaks of red ran up and down the old brick, with puddles of red surrounding two bodies on the ground, eyes still open and glazed over in perpetual shock.

"Oh well, I think this sends a good enough message on its own!" He giggles slightly.

He twirls a knife (now bloody) in his hand and whistles as he walks down the street.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

He longed to just scream as the meeting seemed to go on till the end of time. He couldn't even _pretend_ to sleep, much less do so; his own thoughts were swirling around in his head at such a rate that he was surprised his head didn't hurt, everyone kept giving their condolences and he just itched to _punch_ something. If he was lucky, maybe he'd see somemore action than usual tonight.

Thankfully, mercifully, Lucius finally called the meeting to a halt and board members start to file out of the room, soon leaving only Bruce and Lucius inside. Once the doors close, Lucius walks over to where Bruce was sitting.

"I know that you've been more than patient by being here Mr. Wayne, while I know you'd like to go out there and dish a little justice out to those who did that to Alfred," Lucius said, calm as ever. "If I may make a personal suggestion..." He paused briefly but did not wait for a reply. "Perhaps you should move back to your penthouse, at least for a little while; I doubt it'd be good for you to stay in that Manor all alone."

Bruce shakes his head, standing up and going over to the window. He looks out of it for a moment before giving Lucius a reply. "I've got a better idea; how about you move _in_ instead, rather than me move out."

That surprised Lucius greatly and it took him a moment to reply. "That is...an incredible offer, Mr. Wayne, but I'm not sure--"

"I know you don't have any close family members left, Lucius and you're right; one man doesn't need to wander around its hallways. I think...I think that Alfred would agree with me. He trusted virtually no one when it came to me and...my doings, but he trusted you unequivocally." Bruce replied quietly.

Lucius looks at him for a long moment, appearing deep in thought, as he should as it was a big decision, Bruce knew. He knew that the older gentleman had to be weighing the pros and cons of it. Lucius had originally wanted to stay as distant to Bruce's dealings as Batman as possible, but Bruce genuinely believed that this was the right things to do; it was just one of those things he felt deep down.

"All right, Mr. Wayne. It will be...interesting, to say the least. I guess I can't keep turning a blind eye to what you do as it'll be all but smacking me in the face."

Bruce grins. "I guess not. And another thing; you _can_ call me Bruce, you know. You don't always have to be so formal." That thought sobered him slightly as Alfred most always refered to him in a formal manner. 'Master Wayne' or the like... Lucius seemed to pick up on this as well.

"Of course...Bruce."

"And...there _is_ one other thing--"

"If you're refering to, and I quote; 'the bloke doesn't clean up half bad when he takes all that dreadful makeup off. If only he'd stop blowing things up so much; but Master Wayne _does_ seem to have done a bit of good though, instead of the Joker, Jack, doing more harm than good.'then I already know."

Bruce stares at him in shock; he had no idea that Alfred had told Lucius about the Joker, or that they had been such close friends that Alfred had spoken so freely to the man. He worries about the man's reaction, but all he does it smile at Bruce.

"...as long as he doesn't feel the need to walk around the place with his knives...it should be fine. I don't completely understand the whole situation, and I know what he is capable of...the same with you. As long as you can vouch for him..."

Bruce nods. "There'll be nothing to worry about, I promise you; Jack is much different than the times of night that Batman and the Joker fight."

The situation, while feeling right, also felt rather surreal at the same time. He just hoped that the Joker had learned some new information while he, unfortunately, was holed up in meetings.

...He also hoped that the Joker hadn't gotten into trouble: well... _too_ much trouble anyway, as the man seemed to always be in some kind of situation, good or bad. Because he didn't want to have to explain to his dry cleaners about all the blood. Again.

He doubted he could convince them with another 'fell down the stairs and out the second story window.'

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

 


	5. Chapter 5

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Part Five

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Even knowing who had been the one to kill Alfred, it caused him little, to no, peace. The Riddler's attack seemed to be purely a coincidence, Alfred seeming to have either surprised the man suddenly, from what he had learned. There was also the fact that the Riddler had been hired by...someone, and he didn't know who, except that they were probably in the mob, or for what reason. He had no idea if it had to do with him as Batman, him as Bruce Wayne, or something else entirely.

He hated to be out of the loop; it happened less and less, so the fact that it was happening now was very upseting and annoying, to say the least. He wanted all the facts straight before he lost it and just started going after the entire mob on his own. He wanted justice.

And he'd get it, if he had to get rid of every piece of scum one piece at a time all on his own.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Days had passed since he had last seen Bruce, having only ran into the _Batman_ a couple of times in that period, and only briefly. He was busy with his own plans and only got to play for a few hours in the playground known as Gotham. He hadn't seen Bruce, personally, since that last time in the billionaire's Manor.

He had his own plans and was gathering more people and trying to find more information along the way. He was twisted and turned a few ways because of his need to help Bruce, which was from his deep seated love for him. At the same time, he also felt the need to cause mayhem and destruction, most of it directed at those who dared to hurt his Batsy. He wanted to know just why all this stuff was happening and who he could maim in many different, thoughtful!, ways for causing all this grief.

He lets out a sigh, rolling his shoulders. He was just too tense lately! He needed to get some kind of release--

One look at the stolen crooked clock on the wall of the warehouse storeroom he was in told him easily enough that Brucey was still stuck in the seventh circle of hell also known as 'office meetings.' Why Bruce didn't just put all the old geezer's out of their misery was still a mystery to him.

He shrugs. Oh well! If he couldn't have his Brucey, then he'd do one of the next best things:

Blow something up!

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Something was...odd. Well, even more odd than they usually were, was more accurate. This latest death of Bruce Wayne's butler screamed of shady dealings and an old man unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time; though why the older gentleman was down at the docks so late at night was still a mystery; he knew that Wayne owned some shipping things down there, but it was all routine, nothing unusual.

The Commissioner sighs, rubbing his temples. This new death combined with the appearance of another villain that was head and shoulders above the low lifes of Gotham, being of a similar caliber that the Joker was... it was maddening, tiring and ultimately, frustrating, having to deal with everything as they had been going on.

The Joker was something else as well. Something had happened to the villain; his patterns had altered. He still took the opportunity--when free of Arkham--to blow up everything, to murder people and cause as much chaos and mayhem as he possibly could, but...there were some strange things about some of these occurances, like how Gordon noticed that many of the people who were confirmed to be victims of the Joker were of the worst sort; rapists and murders in their own right, kidnappers and many, many mob people. Two had, in fact, just been discovered hours earlier in an alleyway in the Narrows, a part which cops rarely ever patrolled in as it was so far out in the seedy neighborhood and a known danger to cops and the like as the worst sort loved to conduct business there, whether they were drug dealers, mobsters or whatever.

Gordon couldn't figure out the Joker's motivation. The closest he had ever come was...Batman, of all things. He felt he was on the right track, but some of the opinions that had been given to him on the matter (on the few people he trusted to talk to, as he had made up a fictional situation to try and get some answers) or his own thoughts had led in strange directions. Stuff he wouldn't let himself think about; after all, Batman had not acted any different towards the Joker, or any other criminal, for that matter.

In fact, if anything, Batman had been more ruthless as of late, dropping off more criminals in the last few weeks than he had the whole rest of time he had first showed up in Gotham.

There was something missing, some piece (however small) that he couldn't see, that would easily tell him what he wanted to know...if he only knew where to look for it. But he couldn't worry about it as much as he'd like to; this business with The Riddler was something which had to be taken care of immediately; he did _not_ want another crazy running around the streets of Gotham; The Joker was bad enough.

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He sighs as he looks at the sight of carnage and destruction; the Joker had struck again. He walks over and kneels down, looking intently at the sign which said; _Gotham Methodist Church_ , the only thing left nearly intact, the rest of the building blown to nothing more than rubble and ash.

For all of the deeds the Joker had done so far, it had never seemed to be motivated by anything like religion or anything of the sort.

"Commissioner!" He looks over to see one of the newest recruits to his office, a female detective named Lisa Martinez. "We've recovered a couple of bodies. Leonard Mitchell and Allen Jones, two known money launderers for the mob. The crew on sight has to finish sifting through the rubble, but it seems likely that more mobsters could be found as well; the two were known to travel with a group."

He takes all of this in, standing up and running a hand through his hair. The whole situation seemed...off somehow. "Any witness reports?"

The detective nods. "Yes, sir. An elderly lady on her way to the church for its nightly service caught the sight of a 'screaming man in purple' chasing after three or four men, who ran into the church. Obviously it was the Joker. From what we've gathered, it seems like he was expecting them; they're seen in the church on occasion--I guess even mobsters have a bit of faith--and he stood out there instead of following them. By this time, the elderly lady had backed into an alleyway corner for fear she would be seen; she saw the Joker move back a little and a few seconds later, the building blew up. Another witness, who looked out her window at the sound of the explosion caught sight of the Joker laughing as the building burned and blew up."

"From what you've said, it seems like it was a personal attack," murmured the Commissioner. "But it's almost impossible to tell for sure; with the Joker you can almost never tell _anything_."

The detective gets called over by another detective on scene, leaving Gordon to look around the site by himself, pondering just what was going on. He starts to turn around to follow the same direction the detective took, when something catches his eye. He bends down. It was a Joker card.

It read: _"A desperate disease requires a dangerous remedy."_

Guy Fawkes...who knew the the Joker would know something like that.

He pockets the card.

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	6. Chapter 6

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Part Six

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The Manor was bigger than Lucius remembered, but then again, he had only been two or three times to the mansion. It was easily several times bigger than where he had lived; it had an air of loneliness about it. He could see why Bruce would want someone else to live in it, to try and ease that feeling out of it. Lucius had lost his wife many years ago and hadn't had any children or remarried--and never felt the need to either. He hadn't, after all, been alone for all of that time. He had had a lover for a very long time, until he too was taken from him.

He missed Alfred. The man had been above and beyond amazing; quick wit and unflinching loyalty. It hurt him to know that he was gone, so much so, but he imagined that Bruce's pain must have been so much deeper; the man was practically his father, having all but raised him after Bruce's parents had been gunned down by Joe Chill.

He continues walking down the long, large, and slightly forbidden looking hallway until he reaches what would be his room, opening it and, with a pang, realizes that the man had given him Alfred's room. Not because there wasn't enough rooms (that was _far_ from the truth) or that there weren't as grand a room as this one, but because it was Alfred's. It touched him, but it also made him wonder just how much he knew about how...close he and Alfred had been. Perhaps he had learned recently; maybe something in his tone when he spoke to Bruce, or a certain look in his eyes...Bruce read people pretty well.

"He fixed up the room himself; he wanted you to feel welcome," said a soft voice behind him.

He jumps in shock, his luggage dropping out of his hands, whipping around and his eyes widen.

Standing there in a slouched position, with no makeup, short wavy hair that looked like it had just been washed of dye, wearing a long sleeved button down blue shirt and blue jeans with striped blue socks and brown shoes, was the Joker.

"Don't worry, I won't bite...you at least!" the Joker giggles. His face softens as he takes in the older man's shock. He holds out a hand.

Lucius looks at it cautiously, as if it _could_ bite him, but he takes it. He shakes the criminal's hand; the Joker had a surprisingly strong grip.

"I'm Jack," the Joker said quietly, moving his head up to look Lucius in the eye.

"Lucius."

He wondered if he was crazy for standing there being civil with a known murderer, wondered just how crazy the Joker truly was, and wondered what Bruce saw in this man...but the look in the Joker's face, free of all the makeup, clothes and other usual things, made him think that whatever was going on between Batman and the Joker was more of a good thing than a bad one.

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He opens the door to the rooftop and walks outside, the door slamming shut loudly, making him nearly jump. He shakes his head; he had been up too long and the events of the past few days had made even the times he managed to get home for sleep, difficult to even _get_ to sleep.

"You said you had some new information," said the gritty voice of Batman suddenly, sounding as if it were a part of the shadows. Gordon looks around for a minute before giving up on it and walking out towards the edge of the building, putting his coat closer around himself, the air cold and the wind sharp as it blew through. He wasn't surprised that when he turned around a moment later, Batman was standing there, as if he had been all along.

"I do," replied Gordon, answering Batman's earlier question. "I suppose you heard about the church bombing?"

He had, of course. But none of the information he had heard, or could be gathered about it in such a short time, mentioned anything about who did it, or who had been killed or what. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions about it before he heard anything from Jim Gordon or the Joker; he hadn't been able to find the Joker, so instead he came to the rooftop of Gotham PD to wait on the Commissioner who had gotten a hold of him and said that he had new information.

"Yes," grated Batman. "But I know there is something that is being withheld from the public."

Gordon looks up, startled at that. Batman knew how to manipulate things into his favor; his image and the like made it easy to pretend that he knew more than he did, when he actually didn't. Those situations, however, were few and far between as there was little within the city of Gotham that he did _not_ know, whether it was criminal activities, detective work or the business side of things.

"Um, yes," coughed Gordon, reaching for a cigar in his pocket and lighting it, letting himself indulge in it while he was able to; Barbara forbidden him from smoking them in the house--because of the kids, of course. "It wasn't an 'accidental explosion from a falt in the gas line' as was fed to the news stations to tell the people of Gotham. It was a personal attack on people within the church; it was the Joker's doing. Eyewitnesses confirmed it."

The _Joker_? While Batman stands there, he quickly tries to think of every angle involved in this: it wasn't that he didn't think the Joker capable of doing it, (no, after the Joker's first explosive entrance into Gotham and all the mayhem he caused--he would never underestimate the clown prince again, lover or not) or that the Joker wouldn't do it, it just seemed strange that the Joker would target a church, for whatever reason. As much as he spouted on about chaos, mayhem and destruction, anarchy especially, he had never personally attacked a church...until now apparently.

But it hits the caped crusader that Gordon had said 'personal attack' and the way he said it made Batman think of when it had been Bruce talking with Jack, and how Jack said he was going to hunt down more mob folk for 'information'. ...That must be it. Now he just had to figure out what all had happened, from Gordon and then go and hunt down the Joker. ...It had been some days since he had paid him a visit...

"How many were killed?" He asked in his grating voice. He didn't know how long he had spent thinking about it, but it actually hadn't been long at all, barely long enough for the Commissioner to get a few good puffs on his cigar. Gordon turns to look at him, the glow from the tip of his cigar illuminating his face.

"As of last count; four. Two we found almost immediately, two were hidden in the wreckage; one was found, barely clinging to life; he's in Gotham East Hospital right now...the doctors don't think he'll make it. But he _did_ wake up long enough for a statement, confirming what we already knew, that it was the Joker. ...But it was all a bit odd..."

"How so?"

"They were all from the mob. It just seemed...unusual to me, especially since there didn't seem to be any apparent motive in it." He holds up a hand as Batman starts to speak. "Yes, I know; this is the Joker we're talking about, but even so...this was strange, even for him. Something just seemed...off about it to me. Maybe it's just me seeing more there than there is, but I think my intuition on this is right; it's rarely let me down, and you know I wouldn't talk about it to you, if I didn't think it were true." Batman nods slightly.

"The guy, a Francis Maroni, distant cousin of Sal Maroni, said that he and his 'buddies' were heading for late service--they may be from the mob, but a lot of them are religious--when they see the Joker coming around the corner, a few blocks away from the church, and comes running at them, knives and all. They all ran to the church, locked and barred the doors and got their guns out." For mobsters, they sure seemed like little pansies... "Not a minute and a half passes and the building blows up."

Gordon flicks what's left of the cigar off the roof and pulls something else out of his coat pocket; a card, a Joker card, to be more accurate. Batman knew them very well by sight; from his doings as Batman and the few times he had woken up in bed and found, not Jack there, but a Joker card on the other pillow. ( _"Duty calls, Brucey! Ha ha!")_

The dark knight takes it and examines it: it wasn't all that unusual, a playing card with a red back and a jester on the other side, nothing he didn't expect. But there was something else on the card, an addition, which makes him frown. It said; _"A desperate disease requires a dangerous remedy."_

"Guy Fawkes..." He mutters. He knew the quote, of course, and it wouldn't have surprised him to hear such a thing from the Joker; he was _extremely_ intelligent, he just tended to show more with actions and words that would scare and frighten people rather than anything else, but Batman--Bruce--knew better. But...the Joker didn't write the note. The handwriting on the note was not the same; someone else had either written on Joker's card, or had fabricated the whole thing, card and handwriting, planting it at the scene.

Gordon wasn't surprised that the caped crusader knew it was a Guy Fawkes quote right off the bat, no pun intended. Batman looks up at him. "Did you do a handwriting analysis on the card?"

 _That_ surprised the Commissioner. "Why? It's obvious from the eyewitnesses and victims that it was--"

Batman shakes his head. "That's not what I mean. It's obvious the bombing of the church is the Joker's work, but I mean this card itself; it's not his handwriting."

But the question was; if the Joker hadn't wrote those words...who did?

Gordon takes the card, glancing at the words on it once more. "And just how would you know it wasn't--" He looks up.

Batman was gone.

Gordon sighs.

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The sound of a punch echoes down the empty street, the sound of a loud fall following right after.

Laughter follows suit.

"Ooh, I was _wondering_ when I'd see your dark visage again, _darli--"_

Another punch. The Joker giggles, wiping the blood from the side of his mouth off. " _So_ testy, sweetcheeks. And here I am trying to _help--_ "

"You blew up a church," said Batman coldly. "I wouldn't call that helping."

The Joker frowns, dusting himself off as he stands up. " _Somebody_ 's in a mood, aren't they?" Joker sighs, eyes a little more serious than they usually were at night, as if it were Bruce and Jack talking in the daytime. He walks closer to Batman. "They were nobody anyway; small fry in a fucking pond; a _puddle_. _Nothing_. ...But I _did_ learn a few things..."

He leans up, and the dark knight holds himself in check, keeping himself from touching the criminal, the Joker's breath hot against his face. "Like how a certain new villain was hired by someone high up in the mob. _Verrry_ high up," purred Joker. "I don't know the name of the one pulling the strings... _yet_ , but I'm gett--ing there. I figured that you n' me could...take a little look-see around a few hangouts of the bigwigs and let them know just what they're in for...what'dya say, Bats?"

Batman responds by pushing Joker hard away from him, causing the clown prince to slam into a brick wall behind him hard, falling on his ass. Their usual dance. ...Sometimes it was hard to find that line, where Bruce and Jack were, where Batman and the Joker were. How things would run inside Bruce's head. It could be hard to keep the lines straight, or to find them at all. He loved the Joker, Jack Napier during the daytime; he didn't deny it to himself any longer, but sometimes he would feel the war within himself, wondering how he could stay close to a man who did the things the Joker did at night, and wonder how the Joker could be essentially the same during the day, but yet not.

He accepted many things the harlequin of hate did, he didn't like them and he also worked as hard as he always did to stop him from whatever deeds he planned, but...

"You _killed_ people in there, or did you think that I would just let that slip by me?!" He stalks over to where the Joker starts to slide himself up the wall and yanks him up, slamming him roughly against the dark brick.

"Of course not, Bats; but you can't keep pretending on the way you have been, either." Murmured Joker, glancing up at him.

Batman looks at him, jaw set. "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You fight me during the nighttime, or you fuck me, or both," said Joker bluntly. "And you have me during the day, too. But you don't really let it _go_ at night; you always come up nearly too late when I do something, don't you? Not because you couldn't get there in time, but because you don't want to face up to the fact of who I _really_ am, _all_ of me. You're refusing to see _me_ anymore."

He pushes away from the caped crusader who stood there looking rather stunned, the Joker looking quite agitated. "You think, just because I'm helping you with this...and because of how I feel...that I'm suddenly going to magically change overnight into Mr. Goody Pants Napier forever? You're deluding yourself, Bats, you know you are." He walks into the empty side-street, both of them surrounded by the abandoned warehouses and buildings in one of the deepest and most unused parts of the Narrows, arms outstretched wide. "I am the Joker! The Clown Prince of Crime! The Harlequin of Hate! Whatever name and every name you want to throw at me! I am an agent of chaos! The Joker is chaos to the Batman's justice, yin to yang or whatever else metaphor y'wanna throw out there. I don't just _stop_ what I do because you want me to. I can't stop, not completely, not for anything...even you." He ends quietly, arms dropping, glancing away.

Batman walks over to him, silent, footsteps barely making a sound as he walks, and stands in front of him. He was silent for a long moment, unable to say anything; he knew the man was right. He had deluded himself; he had never really _fought_ Joker as they had before, before he had let himself get close to the Joker, become his lover, and love him. The lines had become criss-crossed and blurred and he had let it. He had been holding onto the last small remnant of the Bruce Wayne that had wanted a normal life, free of worry. But that want was gone, and would never, and could never, happen; his own thirst for justice wouldn't allow anything less than continuing on as he had been. For his parents, for Rachel, for the broken Harvey Dent and for Alfred.

He grabs the Joker's chin and forces his face towards his. He leans in. "I know. I do" he says softly. "I just want you to stay at my side. Help me avenge Alfred; I don't expect anything else that you can't give me, not anymore."

He kisses him hard, feeling the man clutch at his kevlar clad arms. He wraps his arms around the Joker, unable to help himself; so much had happened in such a short period of time and he couldn't help the feeling of helplessness he felt; he couldn't lose the only other person he loved as well.

"I love you; because you have always loved me for everything I am." He pulls back. He looks into the eyes of the Joker, eyes which only minutes before he would have likened to when it was Jack in the daytime, but the truth was, it was both and all. The Joker _was_ Jack, after all, and Jack was the Joker. The Joker had always been what he said he was and not any different. It was _Bruce_ who had seperated the man in his mind. He feels the _love you, too_ against his lips before he kisses Joker again.

He pulls back, letting out a long sigh. It felt like a release he had sorely been needing, like he hadn't gotten everything out of his system at Alfred's funeral. Everything was laid out on the table now, as it should be, and he didn't want it any differently. No secrets.

He waits until he feels the tension run out of his body before he opens his eyes and unwraps his arms from the clown prince, stepping back.

"Now that all of that is out of the way..." He starts.

The Joker raises a brow.

He punches him hard, making him fall to the ground.

The Joker grins and starts to laugh, his laughter echoing down the empty Narrow streets.

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	7. Chapter 7

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Part Seven

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Gotham was silent save for the occasional boom of thunder in the air, or the downpouring of rain. The only sight to be seen in the night sky was flashes of lightning that pierced the air. The air was electric; the sudden sounds of fists smacking into something hard, the echoing laughter that bounced around the empty space, the splash of feet running through puddles, boots echoing on the brick.

A flash of lightning, and the reflection of a man in purple, face painted red, black, and white in an erratic manner, as if preparing for war; if clowns went to war, and a man in black, face sufficiently covered in a cowl with ears pointed and cape likened to a bat, were seen clearly for a moment, should anyone be that far out in the Narrows and cared to look.

They went at each other with a frenzy and zeal that only intensified as it went on. Fists were flung, hitting faces, feet were kicking quickly and roughly into a stomach or side, elbows used, knees into the stomach, the face, with the only sounds accompanying the battling, a growl here, laughter there.

Splotches of blood batter the pavement in little spurts here and there. The rain continues its downpour, the thunder booming, the lightning flashing, all uncaring about the two in the midst of a heated battle. Time went on.

The footsteps trail away...

A gleam in a pair of eyes is seen in an alleyway and disappears when the pair of fighters are out of sight.

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Clothes quickly pile onto the floor, with pieces of black armor along with it. Shoes mingle with boots as they are quickly kicked away. A black cape and mask fall on top of checkered socks.

A lithe body gets pushed to the bed, covered by a slightly taller, muscular body. Hands grab the sides of the muscular man, clinging tightly as the man leans down, brown hair caressing wavy green, and kisses the painted mouth hard, tongue slipped inside, immediately welcome. The lithe body beneath moves hips up and up again, making the muscular man groan, pulling at the green hair as he deepens the kiss.

Hands flecked with paint, and what could be blood, move from their place on the sides of the man on top and cling to the man's buttocks, the lithe body now rubbing eagerly against the other's.

"Joker," the muscular man groans. The man's voice lowers as he moves his mouth down from the painted lips, down the face to the neck. "Jack."

"Brucey," the words were whispered. "Now do you see?"

A pair of eyes gleam as they take in the lovers twined together on the bed.

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"Yes," Bruce whispered, hands roaming down the sides of the Joker. " _Yes_. I can see everything as they should be again. I had been clouded for a long time, deluding myself." He leans in to kiss the man deeply.

"Come with me tomorrow then," the Joker said seriously. He looks up into the billionaire's face. Bruce shakes his head.

"We're not going to get anything accomplished by you killing more mob guys or blowing up churches," Bruce said sternly. As the Joker starts to speak, he interrupts. " _But_ , I _will_ head down to a few places tomorrow night. And...maybe Batman won't notice if a few mob guys happen to be unconscious when he gets there..."

The clown prince grins.

"Mmm...now that business is uh, out of the way..." The Joker runs his tongue around his lips, looking at Bruce hungrily. "If you won't come with me tomorrow... _tonight_ is a good a time as ever--"

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He falls back against the pillow, letting out a long breath. He turns as the Joker clings onto him and he wraps his arms around the lithe criminal, closing his eyes, his head against the side of the Joker's face, as the man does the same.

"Did you leave a card at the church?" murmured Bruce after a few moments, nearly asleep.

"Hmm?" Joker said drowsily. He opens his eyes, drowzy and sated, to look at him. "Yeah."

"Someone wrote on it," said Bruce. "I think it was the Riddler..."

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	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Note is my creation.

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Part Eight

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The Blue Note was the most posh nightclub in town, harboring both the richest of the rich to the mid-class citizens of the city, though the former tended to ignore the latter most of the time, as if they were nothing but vermin. It also was one of the largest gatherings of the mob's remaining forces, including one Sofia Falcone--The Roman's daughter, who ran things in Chicago, having an impressive size of mobsters of her own. If you were impressed by mobsters who had oil slicked hair, tacky suits...and were mobsters.

It hadn't been hard at all to get an invitation to the nightclub--normally it accepted everyone and anyone, but a special fundraiser (when there were so many fundraisers going on at all hours, what did it take to be a 'special' one?)was being held. But when you were Bruce Wayne and could make or break people with a glance or a word--well fists too, but they didn't need to know that--it didn't take anything to garner an invitation.

The owners had all but bent over backwards for him, making it very obvious that they were all but jumping for joy at getting Bruce Wayne at the fundraiser (his name alone would easily get more than half of the population of rich folk down there, if not more)making him internally wince. He hated these sorts of affairs, always had. It was a cycle of boredom, redundancy, and even worse...small talk.

It was a lot easier when you could just beat a person to a bloody pulp so you didn't have to hear them ramble on and on about things. He was just disappointed that he couldn't. He looks over at his counterpart, hearing him come up behind him and his breath catches. The Joker, well no he supposed that it would be more accurate to say Jack at the moment, was wearing a elegantly cut black velvet suit, customly tailored to his body; well it wasn't as if Bruce didn't have enough money to spend, and Jack didn't care how much or how little he spent on him, but he knew that the Joker was a man of tastes, to a degree--at least when it came to his appearance, clothes wise that was.

Although he chose an odd array of colors and things when he went cavorting around as the Joker, the man liked it to be to a certain specification, as if affronted with the idea that someone might try and duplicate it.

He wanted to be unique, this Bruce knew all too well. He had seen how any suggestion of 'blending in with the crowd' made the Joker severely angry. He himself could never say that the Joker 'blended in' with any group. The man was too unique. He could blend himself in with society, or lowlifes when need be (as did Bruce), but to him, Jack was much too unique to be passed by without a second glance. He was bright in a grim, dark city (though this wasn't always for the good.)

Along with the suit itself, the man wore a deep purple shirt, which was so dark it nearly looked as black as the suit, with a pair of black shoes to compliment the clothes. All in all he was really--

"Fuck," he said hoarsely.

The tingling between his legs only grew as he watches the Joker give him a look up and down, a few times over, before finally glancing up to look at Bruce, grinning at him. He actually feels his cock give a twitch when the Joker licks his lips hungrily.

"Same to you, Brucey," whispered Joker.

He was about to grab the man, to do who knows what (actually he was pretty sure what he had in mind...)when the sound of the door opening behind them grabs both of their attention, making them turn towards the noise.

"Well?" Lucius leans in a little, holding onto the door. "Aren't you two coming? It's a little early for that don't you think?"

Bruce grabs his coat in reply, putting it on carefully. He hears Jack snort in laughter behind him. He obviously didn't have any problems with almost getting caught doing--whatever Bruce had been going to do to him, or maybe the other way around, who knew--but the billionaire didn't expect any less. He just rolls his eyes and opens the door, walking past Lucius who steps out of the way, heading down the stairs to the awaiting black car.

"Never early enough, Foxy, never early enough. And we didn't even get to any of the good stuff," Jack complained. Lucius lets out a small chuckle and just like that, Bruce felt a weight come off his shoulders that he didn't even know was there. He had been afraid of how Lucius and Jack would get along with each other, wondering in the beginning if offering Lucius to live in the Manor was a good idea, while at the same time, he wondered what Lucius would do, or say, if anything about Jack. He obviously knew who the man was, but remarkably things had been going well.

He lets out a low sigh of relief as Jack comes to the other side of the car, without his coat again!, (He'd quit buying the man the damn things if all he did was forget them--or lose them when he blew stuff up)opening the door and plopping down into the seat next to Bruce.

Lucius takes the drivers seat, and Bruce ignores the little ache in his heart at that moment. It reminded him all too keenly of Alfred, almost expecting to hear some dry wit and humor from the man, perhaps something like; 'Yes, well, _somebody_ has to be here to look after you, goodness knows that you can hardly look after yourself; I can only imagine the horror at whatever concoction you choose to make in the kitchen.'

"Are you sure about this Lucius?" Bruce asked for the umpteenth time to the man as he starts up the car. He felt really unsure, not wanting the man to misconstrue his offer of living in the manor. "I didn't ask you to live with me to--"

"I know that, Bruce," said Lucius mildly. "But I want to do it. With Wayne Enterprises having a new CEO run things," it had been a little over a week since the older gentleman had retired from Wayne Enterprises and another man--a board member whom Bruce trusted to run things honestly--took up the mantle of CEO. Lucius was still in charge of R&D and all of those things, however.

"I have less to do, even with R&D related things to do when I wish. And," he adds as Bruce opens his mouth to speak, pulling the car out of the driveway and starting the drive down to the city. "I know that Alfred would agree with me. And so does he," he says, jerking his head in the Joker's general direction.

"Got that one right, Foxy."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"I got uh, a friend that I'm gonna meet at the Blue Note," said Jack suddenly, breaking the silence that had been going on in the car for a few minutes as they made their way to the city. "He knows a few things, learns a few things," he glances at Bruce, smirking. " _Great_ conversationalist, y'see. _You_ know what I mean."

Bruce rolls his eyes at the clown prince. He knew perfectly well what he meant. His 'friend', which was more than likely a codeword for 'lackey' or 'informant' or 'person who is willing to tell/do whatever the Joker wanted so he wouldn't hurt them in various places' must have either learned something since the last time the criminal had talked with him. Bruce had no idea; it wasn't like they told each other _everything_ after all.

"You don't need to use that sort of code, Mr. Napier," said Lucius, calmly, looking ahead as he drove the car, cool as could be. "It isn't like I don't know who you _really_ are or what it is you do in your...off-time."

Bruce was more than grateful to Lucius; it wasn't like he expected to, or knew, that many people would be able to handle everything that had been thrown his way, to have to deal with the Joker, and everything else that came along with it. The mere fact that Lucius hadn't called him crazy (he was pretty sure shacking up with your arch-nemesis didn't exactly qualify as 'sane) or done anything to get the Joker taken in, or something else of the sort...well it said many things about Lucius. Good ones, mind you (though he knew that Lucius being so accepting of the Joker probably didn't fall quite under the sane catigory either...)

He was pretty sure he knew what the older man was doing; he was doing things as, they both knew, Alfred would do; he wasn't emulating him, it was...he was just doing what came natural to him, and it touched him, more than he could say.

The Joker, meanwhile, snorts at what the older man had to say. "Yeah, yeah. But, I didn't think you want to hear all about what I do, Foxy, even if you know a few things. Best you don't know what's in here." He taps his head. "Only so much a human mind can take."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Next chapter: The Blue Note is swarming with mobsters, Bruce runs into a person of interest and The Joker has Bruce meet his 'associate.'

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

\--PhoenixJustice

 


	9. Chapter 9

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Part Nine

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Lucius drives up to the front of the nightclub, where reporters, photographers, and paparazzi were waiting, some taking pictures of some of the richies who were already walking inside. Bruce could tell, though it was subtle, that Jack was bothered by all the attention; funny, considering he lived for attention, but this was a different sort entirely. He was not seen as he truly was, not all sides of himself.

These people were only seeing the mask, not the real thing, and he knew that was what bothered the criminal most. The man with the paint, who felt most real when he held a knife in his hand, to watch an unfolding of an explosion; one of the most complex and fascinating men, no _person,_ he had ever known. This amount of hiding himself had to be all but crippling him.

Bruce continues to watch him, as they step out of the car, both of them ignoring all shouts and questions from paparazzi, ignoring the flashes of the photographers. Lucius pulls away as they head further inside, and the billionaire continues to contemplate his nemesis, his lover.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The nightclub was already bustling with throngs of people, some talking to one another, some sitting quietly by themselves. Bruce didn't see anything outright that screamed of the Mob; he knew that they usually stayed in the very back of the nightclub, away from the general public, and mixed in with the rich folk of the city.

With Bruce's status, he could easily head to the back of the club without any problem whatsoever, and with his air-headed and vain playboy persona, he generally did, the few times he came here or to another club in town. It was good to keep up appearances, after all, and the few times he had been with Jack in public (the criminal in makeup to hide his scars) did nothing to diminish his playboy status—he still went out with women on occasion, for appearance sake. It didn't mean anything; it meant even less than it did before the Joker became his lover. He had never indulged in any of the women he dated, and did even less with them now, mostly they were just there as eye candy to keep the media and those who watched, to come to the same conclusion about him they always had.

Tedious, sometimes, not allowed being who he truly was, in public, but necessary. And in the fight to protect Gotham, it would always be worth it. The city was more important than his discontent.

He glances around the room, wondering just who it was the Joker wanted to see, curious as to who this 'informant' or 'lackey' or whoever the hell this person was, looked like. He couldn't tell anything by the Joker's face either. The Joker takes off and he follows off languidly behind him; as impatient as he was feeling, it wouldn't exactly do good things for his carefully crafted image if he started running around acting like a crazy person.

They pass through a few tables, with Bruce ignoring most of the murmurs from the people as he and the other man passed by, though he said a few words to a couple of people that he recognized from a fundraiser a couple of months back. Bruce raises an eyebrow as they reach the very back, to the section that divided the front of the club, the regular folk, with the back, the rich folk and the mobsters (most of whom were rich enough in their own right, though almost all by illegal means.)

The Joker was silent, back hunched like usual, hands in his pockets, as they make their way to a dimly lit corner booth. A man dressed in a white suit that looked like it had seen better days, with as wrinkled as it was, looks up as they approach. A quick once over at the man showed Bruce that the man wasn't that old—mid twenties at most, wearing a light pink shirt with the white suit and white shoes to compliment the whole…ensemble, as it were, his hair was naturally blond, quite light and had light eyes to match.

"Jackie," said the man, giving a half hearted salute with his finger.

"Jonny Jonny." Replied Joker sliding into the seat across from the man, glancing up at Bruce, patting the empty space next to him, smirking slightly. "Come on and have a seat Brucie, he won't bite; that's what _I_ do." He grins.

Bruce just rolls his eyes in response, before taking a seat. The man Joker so aptly called "Jonny Jonny" pulls a pack of cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket, lighting one up before offering them both one. The billionaire shakes his head; smoking wasn't as bad as drinking, when it came to his mission, but it was something he didn't like to do. The Joker grabs one out of the pack, grabbing Jonny's cigarette out of his mouth, and lighting it up with it. The man looked completely unfazed by the Joker; the criminals ticks and the like more obvious now; Bruce could see Jack licking at the insides of his mouth, at the scars which for the moment were not visible.

Jonny looks over at Bruce, holding out a hand to him, Bruce, after a brief moments hesitation, takes it.

"Haven't properly introduced myself; wouldn't be a big thing, but your Jackie's big squeeze," said Jonny, smirking.

"Jackie?" Bruce said, smirking back.

Joker rolls his eyes as Jonny speaks again. "Yeah, well it's safer to call him Jack, or Jackie, out here in public like this. Can't very well say his _true_ name, now can I? Not if I don't want the whole of this room to get out the lead. But yeah, the name's Jonny, Jonny Frost."

The name made Bruce stop in his tracks. Jonny Frost. Jonny Frost. Jonny _Frost_. It was a name that wasn't far off from _Joe Chill_. The man was dead, but he was, and it was—

Bruce was out of the booth like a shot, before anyone could react. Joker too, stood as well, eyes wide as if realizing as well, what was going on; Jonny just looked mildly confused.

"Bruce—" Joker starts.

Bruce takes off before the clown prince could say anything else, hurrying in no particular direction; he just had to get _away_. He could see it all too easily; the shaking hand, straining to hold onto the gun, the man's gritty voice, nearly breathless as he made his demands, his mother's screams as his father stands in front of her to protect her, hearing the sounds of the bullets rush through the air, hearing his mother's last gasping breaths…his father's last words…

He pushes past a curtained doorway, rushing around a corner, before suddenly running directly into something. He staggers back, hair mussed from all the running, his breath coming in shallow pants. A man was sprawled out on the floor.

"Oh, I'm…I'm sorry—" Bruce started. He still felt out of it, but a little more clearheaded than just a moment ago. He holds out a hand. "…Need some help up?"

The man doesn't reply, instead he starts to lift himself up with a cane, something Bruce had been too distracted to notice the man had. The cane was shaped like a large question mark on top. As soon as the man starts to stand up, the billionaire could get a better look at the man, and it makes him still. The man wore a green jacket, which was opened and with no shirt underneath it, and blue jeans, with a pair of red and white sneakers, he also wore a purple and green hat, with a pair of purple sunglasses with the frames tinted orange. Around his bellybutton was a series of black question marks. Bruce had seen this man before, though never in person.

The Riddler.

"You—" choked Bruce, his confusion and sadness ebbing away, the anger rising up in him, feeling more akin to Batman, than Bruce at the moment, but not exactly just one of them either.

"When the world is against you, where is the safest place to hide?*" asked the Riddler.

Bruce shakes his head, his anger so strong in that moment, but still felt paralyzed by something. This was the man who _killed_ Alfred. _Killed_ him. Why was he hesitating? Why couldn't he move? It was the same…as that day…

"In plain sight."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did it have something to do with the note that had been found with Alfred? He thought he had gotten its meaning, but obviously not…what had it said?

_Sharp things know, what a grievous blow. Charged to discover, left with red and grey. The muse falls to the sea, leaving questions. How can one find such a question?_

"Tell me what that note meant," growled Bruce, sounding almost too close to Batman's voice, but not caring at the moment. He pushes the criminal against the wall to strengthen his point.

"Answer one of the things in it and I will answer one for you." Replied Riddler. He was younger than expected—the pictures of him had not been that close up, in the face at least; he was probably around the same age as Joker was, maybe one or two years older.

Bruce slams him harder against the wall. "You think you have _any_ right to demand anything from me?"

"If you kill me, you'll never get the answers you seek, Bruce Wayne," replied Riddler, calmly. "You want _answers_ just as much as you seek vengeance."

He lets go of the man with a disgusted snort; he was right. As much as the Batman in him longed to strike the man with his fists again, and again, and again, Bruce wanted answers. Killing the man would not only, not accomplish that, it would probably break him; Alfred would never want him to break his One Rule, not even for him.

He thinks quickly about the note. _The muse falls to the sea, leaving questions_. The docks were by the river, and the criminal that had left that confusing note, which obviously made questions pop up in the mind. But the _muse falls to the sea_ bit... Muse could be closely construed with Riddler, both having to do with inspiration (and frustration) with words and other similar things. The falls to the sea thing though…he doubted that the Riddler had alluded to the fact that he had fallen into the river. Hmm… river…blue…beyond the river, the closest thing to it that people associated with blue was….

"The Blue Note. You came to The Blue Note after…what happened, after you left that note. And _how can one find such a question_ , is to mean you; you gave the answer how to find you on the note, if anyone could figure it out."

The Riddler lets out a small smile. "You're smarter than you let people believe Wayne. So I'll give you one of the parts, like I said I would. _Sharp things know, what a grievous blow_." He leans in a little closer, glancing around before speaking again, his voice quiet. "Your little lover, Batman's nemesis, knew that he was getting tailed, that someone wanted his death. He knows how much of a _grievous blow_ it is, what happened to your butler, because it wasn't supposed to happen to Alfred Pennyworth; it was supposed to happen to the Joker. _He w_ as the one supposed to be there, not Pennyworth. If that man hadn't been there…who _knows_ what could have happened instead…"

" _What?"_ All these things he had been going through, the pain of losing another person he loved and it was an _accident_? He grabs onto the man's jacket lapels, slamming him back onto the wall. "All of this grief you've caused and it was an _accident_?!" He felt like screaming. "Why are you after Joker?"

" _Charged to discover, left with red and gray."_ Wheezed Riddler.

"Fuck your riddles and _answer_ me!" roared Bruce. He was on the edge of losing his self-control and he knew it; he just didn't know if he could reel it back in.

"I was _hired_." The Riddler choked out. "I was sent out to kill the Joker. I have no beef against him, but I needed the money they offered me. After I…after Pennyworth died, I was left in a pool of blood on the gray pavement and I couldn't take it. I took back their money to them and they threatened me. It's where I just got back from…I've been hiding out at The Blue Note ever since what happened."

"That c _an't_ —" Bruce started. The anger was slowing ebbing away, leaving more of Bruce than Batman, and Bruce felt like crying. "You're _lying_ —"

"Bruce." He glances over at the sound of the soft voice. It was Jack, more Jack than Joker in that moment, he stood in the doorway, with Jonny Frost standing next to him. "He's telling the truth."

He pulls back, watching, but not really seeing the Riddler rubbing absently at his shoulders before straightening out his suit jacket. He takes a few steps back, rubbing wearily at his eyes. All this was too much to take.

"It's Sofia Falcone's doing," whispered Riddler, looking around as if afraid she, or one of her men, were there. "She's the one that hired me."

"I infiltrated her rank of mobsters," said Jonny suddenly. "At Jackie's orders—he learned not that long ago who it was that was gunning after him, well one of the many."

Bruce glances at the clown prince who shrugs. "People are always after me, so I'm used to it, but this was different. Eddie here wasn't the first of the men she hired to do me in. She's the daughter of dear old Carmine Falcone."

"She's not happy about the Joker taking over her father's territory; she ran, and runs, things in Chicago, but I guess she decided to extend her reach all the way over here in Gotham, to get the city back in family hands." Said Jonny.

"She ain't getting _shit_ back," sneered Joker. "I've had enough of those idiot mobsters. How I run the city is _my_ business. They're not gonna fight me either—only Batsy gets to do that. The rest of these idiots are less than the scum they roll around in."

"I'm sorry for what I did," said Riddler. "I can't take it back, but I can help you stop Sofia; my ass is on the line either way. Her men will probably be after me soon."

"I told you'd I'd help you, Brucie," said Joker. "Plus, I sure as hell ain't letting more of those two-bit wannabe's take over what's _mine."_

Jonny shrugs. "I go where the boss goes."

The Riddler had done the deed, but it wasn't his doing that had started everything in the first place; The Roman's daughter was behind it, she had gotten the men to go after the Joker, she had hired the Riddler, she was the mastermind behind everything.

He looks around at them all. He had help from a crazed madman, who was also his nemesis and lover both, the madman's "associate", and the man who had killed Alfred, even if not meaning too. God. What kind of fucked up shit had he gotten himself into…?

He sighs.

Well, it was probably better than fighting crime with a teenage boy, a dog, or a teenaged girl. **

Whoever would do that would have to be _crazy_.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

*= This line was taken from the Joker graphic novel.

**= This is a reference to Robin, Ace the Bat Hound, and Batgirl. XD

A/N: Oh, and I based how Riddler looks and stuff, from the Joker graphic novel. XP

I hope that you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

\--PhoenixJustice

 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Many thanks to all who have read this fic, and those who have reviewed as well. This is the last chapter of the fic. Also thanks to the song "Sympathy for the devil" (the Guns N'Roses remake, that is.) It's what originally gave me the inspiration for this fic.

Enjoy!

~*~ ~*~

Part Ten

Final Confrontation at hand

~*~ ~*~

Matches Malone* was damn near a staple in many mobster circles, as well as drug-dealer circuits and many others. He had quite a reputation, though no one was sure just where he got his start from or who first put the word out there that Matches Malone was a man with whom you could trust to get the job done, and who was more trustworthy than most.

He had no one association, one group that he was apart of, and that normally could be dangerous, but Malone was known to be rather neutral when it came to territorial matters and the like, so he was left alone, as it could be trusted he wouldn't suddenly jump ship to a rival mob organization or anything.

That, and the fact that he had been spotted having close conversations with Jonny Frost, The Joker's right-hand man, and then conversations with the clown prince of crime himself. Most people these days, whether mob folk or otherwise, stayed clear of the criminal. He proved ruthless in pretty much every respect and showed little to no remorse. He was also not afraid to do anything or use any means necessary to get the job done. While many were also like that, he took it to new extremes that even some of the most hardened criminals and top mobsters dared not do it.

Although many groups were angered at The Joker's latest actions, with the recent killing spree he had, many were reluctant to do anything about it. Especially as it was targeted at only one group in particular--Falcone's. Sofia Falcone had taken up where her father had left off, the legacy of mobster rule continuing in Gotham. Or at least, it _had_ been that way, until The Joker had came to town and flipped everything onto its head and fucked up all perceptions.

Someone, no one was exactly sure just who, had called in Matches Malone (giving him quite the sum of money at that) to get the skinny on The Joker's operations. Odds are, it was Falcone or one of her men, but no one was for sure.

~*~ ~*~

It was working out perfectly.

So much so, that it rather scared him. He wasn't used to things going as well as they were going.

"And how is it going, _Matches_?" He just _knew_ that The Joker was smirking, he didn't have to be looking at him to tell. And turning around to look at him, he could see the smirk on the clown's face.

He simply rolls his eyes at him.

"Good. Better than expected, _boss_ ," he adds sarcastically. "Falcone said she wants to meet tomorrow at the Canary Wharf, at some place called the Yellow Box Warehouse**. I looked into it, and apparently it's the second branch of a place of the same name in Japan. Some guy from England** apparently owns it, as well as the one in Japan. She was allowed to rent out the space for tomorrow. I guess all the influence she has is still enough."

"It's slipping though." Jonny walks into the room, leaning casually against the wall. He smirks minutely, before grabbing a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lighting one up. He blows a puff of smoke. "Apparently someone named nicknamed "Gentleman" Johnny Marcone is attempting a take over of her Chicago territory***...and every other mobster territory as well. And it looks like it's working too."

"That means she's getting desperate now. 'Desperate times call for desperate measures.'" The Riddler called out suddenly, making them all turn to the corner where he was propped up, hands leaning on his cane. "If she can take out The Joker and also get all he has accumulated, then her influence will go up conciderably and she'll gain the favor of many of the mobsters who were against her and her family, because they too see the Joker as the biggest threat to the mob world in Gotham...other than Batman of course."

You had to hand it to him, he thought grudgingly. The man was quite smart and he thought on his toes. He was able to see many angles that they hadn't been able to think of before.

His hands pull away a few things from his face, letting out a breath. _Much_ easier to breathe now, without all that makeup and things on.

He...couldn't hate The Riddler any longer. The man had been the trigger man that had killed Alfred, but it had all been an accident, and Bruce could see genuine sorry in the man. The situation now was bigger than Alfred's death, it included a woman who had hired the hired gun who had killed Alfred, the bullets meant to originally take the life of the Batman's lover and nemesis, The Joker. She was also trying to expand upon an empire that had been built on blood and evil.

It would end, one way or the other, tomorrow.

"Bruce?"

He turns to back to look at the clown prince, whose eternal glascow smile could not conceal the worry in the man. His heart clenches in his chest and he swallows against a lump in his throat. They had a fucked up relationship. The man was his greatest enemy and that wasn't about to change. He was also his lover. And more than that...he genuinely loved the man. He had resisted too long and had finally been unable to keep doing so. The Joker was an enigma, and he constantly learned something new from him.

It was certainly never boring.

~*~ ~*~

The original Yellow Box Warehouse was a bit larger than the one in Gotham City. Apparently both places were owned by some _very_ wealthy man from England. Other than that, Bruce had no idea who the man was. Even his greatest resources, and help from the Riddler (who was quite a hand at computers as well), gleamed nothing. But that wasn't important, as Bruce found no ties to the mob in neither Gotham, Chicago or the Yakuza in Japan, so the place was as safe as could be found on such short notice.

It was an ambush.

They all knew it, from the very beginning when he took on the garb of Matches Malone again and managed to stage a "meeting" between Falcone and The Joker.

Odds were against them. Falcone had probably countless men at her disposal, while The Joker, who had the reins of the underground in Gotham, had, in all honesty, only Jonny Frost at his disposal. The rest were just hired guns. He had gotten a few for the occasion, but it was sure to not be enough for what they were going to walk into. And The Riddler didn't have any men at his disposal.

Neither did Bruce.

But _Batman_ knew some people...

~*~ ~*~

Gordon sighs, closing the door to his office and walking over to his desk, taking a seat, rubbing at his tired eyes. Too many long shifts as of late, combined with the strain that his marriage had been taking, and his attraction, that he should not have, to Detective Sarah Essen, who had recently come in from Chicago's Homicide Unit.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up suddenly and he whips around and sees the Batman standing there.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Gordon exclaimed, shaking his head. "At this rate, next time you do that, you'll give me a heart attack."

"There's a serious matter going on, Gordon," the raspy voice of the caped crusader said. It must have been even more serious than usual, if he couldn't even get a small joke out. "I know you have been following up on the mob murders."

Gordon didn't deny this, he knew all too well by now that the man had ways of finding out just about anything.

"As well as knowing who did it."

"The Joker." Gordon replied.

Batman nods faintly, looking fairly agitated for some reason.

"There's more to it. The note on the Joker card you found was from the Riddler, not the Joker. The card was his, but the note was the Riddler's. Suffice to say, that isn't the issue. I've learned...from a few sources...that Sofia Falcone will be at the Yellow Box Warehouse tomorrow, with some, if not all, of her men, as well as The Joker and his side as well. It's the chance to take down Falcone's operations in Gotham completely. ...The Joker as well. He will be there with a man named Jonny Frost, as well as The Riddler."

Gotham free of the largest problems it had seen in a long time...it was the opportunity that any police officer would jump at, without even thinking.

But Gordon knew Batman and he also knew a few of the man's expressions even with that mask on. He wondered if he could pass off the agitation as simply a by-product of the situation, but still...he wondered.

It was all a matter of trust, in the end.

It depended all on whether or not Commissioner James Gordon trusted a masked vigilante to be telling the truth, and to be doing the right thing.

"What time is it starting?" He asks quietly.

He almost swore that he saw a small smile grace the man's face.

~*~ ~*~

The pieces were all falling into place.

The only thing left now was to wait.

~*~ ~*~

The time chosen for the "meeting" was around midnight, when most everyone, whether commercial fisherman, or the like were more than likely to be cleared out. He had asked Lucius to drive only part of the way there. For one, there was a good chance that Falcone had posted a few men in locations around and past the Warehouse, just waiting to shoot them all in the car, or get them in the back of the head with a lucky bullet.

And he wouldn't risk Lucius Fox.

"Stop here. This is fine."

He peers around at the surroundings as they started to come to a halt. The other men in the car were silent, waiting. As the car comes to a halt, he glances back at the older gentleman.

"Leave as soon we get out."

"But what about--"

He shakes his head. "We got it covered. And besides," he adds. "Brucey would have my head if I let anything happen to you."

~*~ ~*~

The sky was clear, and the stars gleamed. The moon, full and shining bright, loomed overhead.

It was time.

~*~ ~*~

"All right everyone. This is the moment we've all been waiting for. Falcone, The Joker, The Riddler and The Joker's right hand man, Jonny Frost are to be taken alive. Try and keep casulties down to a minimum, if possible. If the situations escalates too far, then excessive force is permissible to use. Ready?"

Commissioner James Gordon leads a group of dedicated men and women, the lives of which, he held in his hands, as the commanding officer. They all knew the risks and were willing to take them.

It was time.

~*~ ~*~

Falcone's voice was deeper than expected, though she was rather tall and broad. Her dark red hair fell past her shoulders.

"It is about time." Her voice stemed with impatience. "You are late."

The Joker merely shrugs, feeling quite at ease with himself, considering the situation, calmed by the large number of knives and other things he had with him.

"Yeah, well can't take any chances now can I? Not with you so gung-ho to blow my head off my shoulders," sneered Joker.

Sofia raises a brow, her voice laced thick with an italian accent. "I do not know what you are talking about. Perhaps you are stupid to believe the lies told by this...Riddler."

He glances briefly at the man standing somewhat behind him on his left (Jonny was on his right.)

"I don't have anything to lose, Sofia," Riddler said flatly. "But _you_ do. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind doing some dirty deeds now and then, but there are limits."

"Because of one old man," scoffed Sofia. "You are too soft-hearted. It is business."

"As is this."

The sudden sound of what were unmistakably guns, comes out of the many shadows of the poorly lit Warehouse.

"As _fun_ as it has been to talk with you gentlemen, it is time for the _real_ business to begin. To take back what you have stolen," she says, pointing a finger at the Joker. "You have taken my father's territory, _my_ territory, and you have soiled it."

Many suited men step out of the shadows, all of their rifles pointed at the clown prince and the two other men.

"Goodbye gentlemen."

As the men ready to open fire and before any of the three could pull out a gun or knife, a large _boom_ comes from the top of the roof. A blast of plaster, wood, metal and other things falls to the ground, just as a large black figure comes down, landing in the middle of the two groups.

"Batman!"

"It's the Batman!"

"You stupid fools! Shut _up_ \-- " Hissed Sofia, pulling out a gun herself. "--and _shoot_!"

~*~ ~*~

The blast was loud, making his ears ring.

"That was the signal! Everyone at the ready!"

They run inside, with Gordon at the front.

~*~ ~*~

It was madness. Gunfire erupts in a loud stream that made the ears of every person ache. Screams were starting to be heard as well. One Gotham officer manages to take down two mob men who try to get the jump on his fellow officer as well as the Commissioner, only to be taken down by a knife from another mobster.

The Riddler pulls open his cane to reveal a wicked looking sword, gleaming from the moonlight that came in from the hole on the roof, and he used to an extent that was surprising.

Jonny Frost, Joker's right-hand man stood close to the criminal, using a pair of guns very efficiently.

The Joker, meanwhile, was looking like he was having the time of his life, using knives so quickly on some, or slow on another, and so well at that. He was also dodging bullets like he was magic, his reflexes were very good.

Falcone was somewhere in the midst of the battle, but hadn't been seen for awhile.

The Batman, meanwhile, was the only person who was battling with non-lethal means.

And he was _still_ kicking major ass.

It was almost like poetry in motion, the way he would move here, or there. A punch to one, a swinging kick to another.

No one knew how long the fighting was going on, but soon, only a few mob men were left, maybe ten, with at least four of them injured (most of them by the Joker and his devestatingly efficient knives.) There were about half of the men and women left that the Commissioner had brought with him, only a couple of them injured (and lightly injured at that, thankfully) and he himself was unharmed, by some grace of god, gods, luck, or what have you.

The Riddler was down to one knee, having apparently been shot in one of his legs, blood pooling on the concrete. Jonny Frost stood in front of him, apparently guarding the man. A strip of shirt was missing from Frost's shirt, and it appeared that it was wrapped around the Riddler's wound.

Gordon continues to survey his surroundings as his men nab the remaining men. He hears a loud gunshot suddenly and sees The Joker on the right side of the building, close to the back, holding a gun, looking murderous. It was then that Gordon noticed that a mobster had escaped his attention and had pointed a gun at the Batman, who was starting to head around towards the back of the warehouse. The man falls to the ground with a thump, dead. Batman turns and stares in the direction of the Joker for a long moment, before turning and continuing the way he was going.

"Batsy, wait for me damnit!"

The Joker runs off in the Batman's direction.

Gordon couldn't believe what he was seeing. He manages to shake himself mostly out of it and heads over to help his men cuff the remaining mobsters left.

Falcone was nowhere in sight.

That was up to Batman now...and The Joker too, apparently.

~*~ ~*~

He whips around the corner and as he does, a loud bang comes from his left and he rolls without thinking, missing a bullet that would have hit him in the head had he not moved. He stands just as quickly and sees Falcone holding up a gun in his direction. Her finger pulls the trigger but nothing happens. She curses and throws the gun in his direction. He dodges and sees her running away again. He gives chase.

He manages to corner her as she hesitates on which way to turn in the confusing maze of buildings at the wharf. He grabs onto her, ignoring her screams and curses, the scratches she inflicts on the open part of his face as he grabs some rope from his belt, attempting to tie up her wrists.

She surprises him with a kick that knocks him away. He hurries back up, only to see her pull out another gun, smiling grimly as her finger moves to the trigger--

_Bang!_

Her eyes widen, as do his own, as she falls to the ground. Behind her, Joker, looking grimmer, and angrier than he had ever seen him, stood holding up a gun.

"You don't _ever_ touch what is mine." snarled Joker.

He takes a step forward, picking up his rope and, after glancing at the Joker, kneels down beside Falcone.

She was still alive. She had been shot in her back, near the spine. She might not walk again, but she would live.

He ties her hands up and stands up. He looks at the Joker. The man lowers the gun, shaking slightly. Anger was still in his eyes, but the caped crusader knew him well enough by now to understand what he was _also_ feeling.

"Joker--" he starts.

A small crash to their right makes him turn his head, and he sees Gordon pick up a pair of glasses from the ground. The Commissioner's eyes widen at the sight in front of him. He still had his gun in his hand. After a look at him and Joker both, he hesitantly walks over, kneeling down close to Falcone, taking out a walkie and speaks into quietly for a moment before putting it back.

"You..."starts Gordon, looking at neither of them. "You should get out of here sir. You and your...friend. I, uh, can't see a damned thing with my glasses."

The caped crusader looks at Joker, nods at him, receiving one in return. As he walks past, he glances at Gordon.

"Thanks, Jim." He says quietly.

~*~ ~*~

The moment they were out of sight, Batman pushes Joker up against the nearest wall, ravishing his mouth. The Joker lets out a startled moan, kissing back immediately with just as much intensity. He pulls the man close to him, thrusting his tongue inside his mouth.

The Joker's hands wrap around him.

Finally they both pull their mouths away from each other, but stay in each others embrace. The sound of sirens blared, coming ever closer.

"Thank you." Muttered Batman, his forehead leaning against the other man's.

The Joker simply shakes his head. No words of thanks were needed and Bruce knew it, but all the same, he just felt if he didn't say it, that he would explode with words unsaid. The Joker looks into his eyes.

"Bats--" The expression in the man's gaze, with the sound of his voice undid Bruce.

"I love you."

The Joker's eyes widen.

Twin tears fall down the man's face without him apparently noticing it. Somewhere near them, emerged Jonny Frost, helping a limping Riddler walk their way.

He kisses Bruce.

"I love you too." He smiles suddenly. "But lets get out of here before Gordon comes round and has a heart attack."

Bruce laughs.

Four unlikely allies, two of them lovers, leave the Wharf, laughing all the while.

~End~

~*~ ~*~

* = Matches Malone is an alias that Bruce uses sometimes in the comics to infiltrate places and stuff.

** = both Yellow Box Warehouse and 'some rich guy from england' are references to Death Note. Though I won't say WHICH rich guy I'm talking about, you can guess that for yourself. ^_~

*** = Gentleman Johnny Marcone is from the book series The Dresden Files (which are so awesome, it's scary) and he is the top mobster in Chicago. The reference I make to him and Falcone fighting over territory references my fic Mobster Tango, which is a TDK/Dresden Files crossover fic. (So apparently this series can be looked at as a prequel to Mobster Tango, wow didn't intend for that lol.)

A/N: Apparently by doing all of these things, I've made TDK, Dresden Files and Death Note all apart of the same 'verse, lol. I didn't exactly intend for that, but what the hell! Yay for an indirect TDK/Dresden Files/Death Note crossover, even if it was just because of the Dresden Files and Death Note references lol.

This took awhile! Lol. Especially since I did it all in one sitting without a break!

I hope you all enjoyed this! (I know I sure as hell enjoyed WRITING it!)

Let me know what you thought!

\--PhoenixJustice

 


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